


A Good Man Goes to War

by gingifere



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, This is an AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 20:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingifere/pseuds/gingifere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s nothing unusual about the day Jim’s world shifts on its axis, except suddenly he's tying to foil a kidnapping, deal with an arrogant Time Lord and avoid the destruction of all of time and space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Man Goes to War

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of this fic is set in 2261, three years after the events of the 2009 Star Trek movie. The second and third sections are set in 2011 before Kirk returns to 2261. This was written prior to the season finale of Doctor Who, and is therefore AU for the entirety of season 6 and 7. 
> 
> Much thanks and appreciation goes to [thalialunacy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy), [anamuan](http://anamuan.livejournal.com/) and [amine-eyes](http://amine-eyes.livejournal.com/) who bravely went through the original rough draft of this fic and manage to salvage something from it. 
> 
> Finally, Lori Garver is totally a real person, and is in actual fact the current deputy administrator at NASA.

There’s nothing unusual about the day Jim’s world shifts on its axis; he gets up at five am, and immediately wants to roll back to sleep at the absolutely crushing wave of exhaustion that hits him. Because despite the fantastically hot night he’d spent wrapped up in Bones, running on less than four hours does not a cheery Captain make.

He brushes a kiss along Bones’ cheek, smiling when Bones grumbles about stupid morning people waking him up before he’s ready and pulls the cover back over his head. Jim shakes his head fondly as the slow drone of Bones’ snoring fills the room, and heads to the bathroom for his daily sonic shower, then slips into a clean uniform and heading to the mess to eat a quick breakfast.

“Morning all,” he says fifteen minutes later, striding onto the bridge, not surprised to see the senior crew already seated at their consoles. “Bitchin earrings this morning, Lieutenant,” he continues, throwing Uhura a wink. She rolls her eyes, but Jim’s well versed in decoding Uhura, and spots the smile she’s fighting.

“They may be a little out of your price range, Captain,” she says in amusement. “But the color will certainly match your eyes.”

“Why, Uhura, are you complimenting little ole me?”

“With all due respect, sir, dream on.”

Jim grins before turning to where Sulu and Chekov are laughing and Spock is giving him the Eyebrow.

“Spock,” he says cheerfully, lifting his own eyebrow in amusement.

“Good morning, Captain. I have taken the liberty of transferring the Stella Cartography Department’s findings of the recent Azareth Nebula to your PADD. I believe it would be prudent for you to read over my own edits before you attempt to read the original documents. Some of the cartographers reports are less...succinct than I would expect of a Starfleet graduate.”

Spock says it in a calm voice, although Jim can sense a slight thread of irritation as he finishes, and he wonders briefly which unlucky bastard will be called out on their crap writing skills. “Morning, Commander. I’ll be sure to take your edits into consideration,” he says, just managing to keep a straight face. Because seriously, the way Spock talks is _fantastic_.

Spock nods once before walking back to his post. Jim calls that he has the comm, resigned to the fact that he’s actually going to have to work his way through these reports.

Four hours later, Jim is about to throw his PADD against the wall, because apparently being a Stella Cartographer means losing the ability to write a report that’s both informative and engaging. He practically sags with relief when Bones arrives at lunchtime and grouchily drags him to the mess so Jim can eat dinner while Bones eats breakfast before gamma shift starts.

“You know, you _can_ pass some of those reports on to Spock,” Bones says eventually, after about the fiftieth time Jim rubs at the sides of his head. “He’s your first officer for a reason, and hell, he’d probably actually enjoy reading them. Not to mention the thrill he’d probably get out of telling them their findings are illogical.”

“Can’t,” Jim says. “Reports need to be signed off by me, which means I actually have to read the damn things before I can send them back to Starfleet.” He cuts into his steak and spears a piece of asparagus with his fork. “Also, I know Spock and Uhura try to spend Tuesday nights together, even if one of them is on shift. And while Uhura doesn’t scare me per se, I have a healthy respect for her ability to make my life miserable if I fuck up her plans.”

“I’d be more likely to believe that last statement if I hadn’t seen your face the last time Nyota took out an entire bar of hostile aliens,” Bones drawls. “As it is, I still think you’re intimidated as hell by her.” He then scowls as Jim puts a liberal amount of butter onto his boiled potatoes. “Christ, Jim, like I haven’t got enough to worry about regarding your health without you adding a goddamn heart attack into the mix.”

“Oh, please. Like I didn’t just see the three slabs you put into your bowl of grits,” Jim grouches, completely ignoring the suggestion that he is frightened of Uhura and fighting back a reluctant smile as Bones scowls at him across the table.

“You’re off tomorrow, right?” Bones asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence have passed as he finishes his second cup of coffee.

“Yeah, thank God. Tomorrow I’m going to sleep until nine, eat a disgustingly unhealthy breakfast that you’ll no doubt bully the replicators into reporting to you, then drag you down for lunch in my personal quarters, and nothing short of a Klingon invasion is going to stop me.”

“Some of us actually have work to do, you know,” Bones grumbles, but there’s a smile lurking in his eyes, and he gently bumps his ankle against Jim’s.

Jim struggles not to break into a mushy smile, because he is a Starfleet Captain whose crew respects and adores him, and beaming at your boyfriend in the mess hall is not professional. “How’s Jojo?” he asks instead, watching Bones swig the dregs of his coffee.

“She’s good,” Bones says. “About to start middle school, which is scary as all hell when I remember how tiny she was when she was first born.” He shakes his head slightly in awe. “She’s drivin’ poor Joce mad with her future career plans. Right now she’s decided she’s gonna be a space pirate like her favourite holovid character.”

“Oh, God. The scary thing is that with your brains and Jocelyn’s ruthlessness, she’d be a kickass pirate,” Jim laughs, scraping up the last of his steak and potato. “She’s gonna be around when we go back for shore leave in October, right?”

“Uh huh. Jocelyn’s dropping her off in San Francisco two days after we get back, and then picking her up again in three weeks. Which reminds me that I need to find your mom a present before we get back to thank her for looking after Jo when Joce and Clay were on Seti.”

“Get her something when we stop off at Bleughar. She loves puzzles, weapons, things she can take apart and put back together again, and anything that looks potentially dangerous.”

“So it will be like buying something for you, then?”

“Ha ha ha. If this CMO business doesn’t work out, you’ve got a career in comedy to fall back on,” Jim shoots back, standing up and picking up his tray. “I should head back to the bridge. I’ll see you tomorrow. Try not to threaten my crew too much if they come in injured.”

“I wouldn’t need to threaten them if they actually admitted they were injured instead of taking pages out of their damn captain’s book,” Bones growls, smiling up at Jim nonetheless. “Take care.”

Jim grins at the unsaid “I love you” and heads off back to work, content in the knowledge that tomorrow is going to be awesome.

~ ~ ~

By the time Jim stumbles through the door to his quarters he’s more than ready for a day off. His muscles twinge pleasantly from his workout, but he admits to himself that maybe the fencing lesson with Sulu was a bit much immediately after he’d had his ass handed to him twice in a row by Spock. He manages to remain cognisant enough to shower and brush his teeth before he collapses in a sprawl across the bed.

It takes less than thirty minutes for the dream to begin.

The dream starts the same way as it usually does: He’s in a simple blue room with soft varnished floors and a slightly saggy red sofa. There’s a bookcase tucked into the corner, but the books shelved on it are written in a language that Jim doesn’t recognise, which doesn’t of course stop him from attempting to read them. He doesn’t even bother searching for a door or windows; after weeks of the same dream, he’s stopped trying to find a way out.

After five minutes, Jim mentally shrugs before sprawling out on the sofa to wait, wondering briefly if he should mention the dreams to Bones. After all, it can’t be _normal_ to have the same recurring dream. And then he considers how Bones would react to the news that Jim has been having what amounts to a long term friendship with someone in his head without telling his CMO and laughs. Jim’s had more than enough surprise hypo spray attacks, thank you very much.

Even after all this time, he still jumps when the Doctor appears, hands jerking towards where he usually stores his phaser. The Doctor is thin and tall with brown hair swept up into a widows peak and dressed like someone from the early twentieth century. Jim finds the bowtie particularly hilarious, and wonders if he can find a similar one for the _Enterprise’s_ next Halloween party. He makes a distant note to check once he wakes up. And if he remembers.

Usually the Doctor greets him with a smile or a silly anecdote, something that breaks the ice and makes Jim feel slightly less insane. This time, though, he spins around in surprise, as if he isn’t quite sure how he’s gotten there. There’s something like rage intermixed with fear in his expression, and not for the first time, Jim recognises that this man who calls himself the Doctor is someone he needs to be wary of, that the force of his rage could somehow change everything were it to be fully realized.

The Doctor starts towards Jim jerkily, forehead creased into an impressive frown of worry. “I see the Azorian Ambassador wasn’t joking when she said she would send me to someone who could help. Yes, yes, I see now what she means for me to do,” the Doctor mutters, moving forward until he’s in Jim’s personal space. One hand reaches out to grasp Jim’s shoulder, whilst the other pulls out something that reminds Jim of a Tricorder, if a Tricorder were to look like a tricked-out 20th century screwdriver. The Doctor flicks a switch, and Jim just manages not to start when the machine begins to flicker blue and emit a strange, high-pitched noise.

“This will only take a minute, and then you’ll be ready. But before I go, you have to remember this: the cracks cannot be allowed to spread to your universe. No matter what else happens, no matter whom you meet, you must _not_ let the cracks spread.” The Doctor continues, face solemn and eyes somehow sad. “But for what it’s worth, I am so sorry.”

Jim feels an awful sense of foreboding at the expression on the Doctor’s face, remembers seeing something similar on his mom’s face the first time she refused to break him out of jail after he got into his fifth fistfight of that week, before it morphed into something more heartbreaking after he returned from Tarsus IV. But before he can protest or pull away, the noise in the odd machine increases in pitch, and the world goes black.

~ ~ ~

When Jim wakes up after what feels like hours of sleep, the first thing he notices is the silence. As someone who’s spent the last three years living on a spaceship, the absence of noise strikes him as ominous, something to be wary of. Even during gamma shift, when the ship is mostly quiet, the constant thrum of the engines on the _Enterprise_ is like a beating heart, something that feels like home.

He stretches slowly in the way that he’s learned to do over the years, to check for broken bones or internal injuries, and frowns when he realises he’s on a bed. It’s a real bed too, an honest to God soft, cotton-covered one with a spring mattress and feather down pillows instead of the stupidly small single bed that’s in his Captain’s Quarters and barely fits him and Bones. The air smells differently too, like grass and coffee, and it’s the second one that encourages Jim to open his eyes, hunger suddenly swelling up in his stomach.

The room he’s in is pale yellow and simple; a chest of drawers is tucked under a simple painting of a bowl of fruit, a wardrobe leaning up against the corner of the room and a window opposite, with soft white curtains. The curtains are drawn and the door is shut and Jim rolls slowly to his feet, padding towards the window. Figuring he’s on earth, judging by the room, and feeling cautious, he pulls open the curtains.

He blinks when he’s greeted with the sight of fields and fields of wild green grass and dandelions almost as high as his knees, an endless sea of green and yellow that’s only broken up by a group of houses far in the distance.The air smells sharp and sweet, like wild berries and hay, smells that remind him of summer, and the sky is an endless blue that seems to go on forever.

He knows immediately that he’s not in Iowa, quickly noting that the car slowly make its way up a winding road in the distance is on the left hand side of the road instead of the right.

The pounding of feet up the stairs jerks him around, and he darts towards the wardrobe, tucking himself next to it so that whoever comes through the door can’t see him. There’s a slight pause outside of the door, as if whoever is there is considering whether or not to enter, then the door swing opens and a man enters. He’s young, maybe in his late twenties, with dark brown hair and a face that would be pleasant if it weren’t for the bags under his eyes. His expression registers surprise when he sees Jim’s no longer in the bed, and it’s at this moment that Jim slides up behind him, one arm tucked around his throat, the other across his mouth.

“Move and I’ll knock you out,” Jim says, voice calm and genial. “Now, you have five minutes to tell me who you are, and how the hell you got me off my ship and to wherever the hell this is.”

Jim waits until the man nods his head in affirmation before he moves slowly back, keeping himself between the man and the door. The mans spins around and pins Jim with a deer-in-the-headlights look, brown eyes wide and worried.

“Oh, God,” the man says. “I knew I shouldn’t have let the Doctor just leave, especially after he turned up in the middle of the night with you, but for some bloody reason I’ve lost all sight of my senses in the last few years, and odd men being deposited in my house just isn’t weird anymore, which should probably tell me that my life has got far too weird to be healthy…” His voice had grown more and more high pitched as he continued.

“Wait, you said the Doctor. As in, _the Doctor_ , skinny guy with brown hair, talks in circles?” Jim asks, something like relief stirring in his stomach, because if he can finally get some answers about the odd man he dreams about, maybe it’ll make him feel less like he’s going crazy.

“Yes. He said he’d be back tonight and that he’d explain everything. But for now, he said to tell you that you should remain here and try to get some rest.”

Jim frowns at the odd note of desperation in the man’s voice, and at the way he’s shaking slightly, as if he wants to reach out and force Jim to stay.

“My name’s Rory Williams. This is my house and whilst I don’t know exactly why you’re here, I have a feeling I know what the Doctor’s planning. And no, I can’t tell you right now, not without the Doctor here. But I can offer you coffee and something to eat whilst we wait.”

“I’m Jim Kirk. And look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate that you’ve let me sleep in your house for the night, but I don’t know you, or where I am, so I’m gonna be a little tense. But if the offer of coffee is still on the table, I’ll definitely take you up on it,” Jim says, moving so that Rory can pass to the door. He still feels irritated and suspicious, but he can also recognise a liar at twenty paces, and Rory definitely isn’t lying to him about needing to wait for the Doctor.

Jim follows Rory down a hallway and a flight of stairs, eyes flitting around as he makes note of each and every exit and land briefly on a picture of Rory with a stunning redhead inside a simple picture frame.

Rory leads Jim into a light and airy kitchen with its back door propped open. There’s a large wooden table surrounded by four chairs and tucked off to the side of the room, and pale green granite surfaces and a large stove . Rory pours two cups of coffee from an old-fashioned coffee pot, and places a bottle of cream and a glass jar of sugar in front of Jim. Jim murmurs his thanks and pours in a splash of cream, glancing around the room with interest as he settles into a comfy wooden chair.

“So, I’m guessing from your accent that we’re in England?” he asks finally, desperate to break the silence that’s growing, and turns his gaze back to where Rory is pulling a loaf of bread out of the fridge, juggling several jars and what looked like a butter dish.

“Yes,” Rory says in a distracted voice, lifting his eyes to where Jim’s sitting as if he’s forgotten about him. “Leadworth. Gloucester to be precise. Would you like butter, marmalade, or jam on your toast?”

“Leadworth,” Jim repeats thoughtfully. He’s never heard of Leadworth, but then he’s also never been to England. “Oh. Jam and butter, I guess. Please.”

He wants to laugh at the surreal situation that he’s found himself in as he watches Rory pop four pieces of bread into the toaster, but something about Rory’s behaviour makes him think that this is what Rory needs right now, that doing something as banal as making coffee and breakfast is helping. Anyone else would roll their eyes at these feelings, tell themselves to stop being so dramatic, but Jim has learned not to question his instincts.

“Yeah, small village, middle of nowhere really. Not near London which is a bit of a pain if you like big cities. But it’s my hometown and I like it. Met my wife here and everything,” Rory says, leaning up against the kitchen counter so that he can see Jim. “What about you, which part of America you from?”

Jim nods slowly to show he’s listening, but can’t really connect to Rory’s comment. After all, it’s not like Riverside ever had any good memories for him. Sure, his mom’s still there, living on the farm his dad left her, and he makes sure to return for Hanukkah every year, but with the time she spent off planet and the way Frank had bought him up after Sam had finally run away for good, he’s not exactly brimming with excitement at the idea of trips home.

“I grew up in Riverside, a small town in Iowa,” he says finally, voice neutral.

“Iowa, huh? I’ve only been to America once, and that was to spend two weeks in Florida. Absolutely melted in the sun, but Disney World was a laugh and it was nice to relax for a while.” Rory gives him a smile as he places their toast onto two plates and carries them over to the table.

Jim smiles slightly, then murmurs something suitably polite, and is spreading butter and jam across his toast when something Rory said catches up with him.

“Wait, _Disney World_? Like, Disney World Florida?” Jim asks, voice slightly incredulous as he drops his toast back onto his plate, because everyone knows Disney World was relocated to San Francisco after Florida was destroyed in WWIII.

“Well, yeah. I mean, that’s the only Disney World in America, right? Although I’ve heard they’ve got Disneylands everywhere now, from Hong Kong to France. The one in Paris isn’t too bad, doesn’t have as many rides as the Florida one, but then France just isn’t as big, is it?”

Jim’s mind is racing, that small feeling of something not being right morphing into a full blown sensation. Jim has always joked that he has a sixth sense, taking a particular type of glee in doing so in front of Bones, because Jim loves the way discussions about psychics and people who test in the higher region in the psi tests make him scowl and grumble about guileless idiots who place too much stock in “feelings”. The truth is that Jim’s always been able to trust his instincts, and has learned over the years that when his gut is trying to tell him something, he should damn well pay attention.

“This is going to make me sound insane, okay, but I need you to answer this question regardless,” Jim says seriously, leaning forwards until Rory meets his eyes.

“Ok,” Rory says slowly, eyeing Jim in that same careful way he’d done after Jim had threatened him.

“What year is it?”

“Wow, you really must have hit your head if you’re asking me that,” Rory says. But Rory looks relieved, like it’s a perfectly normal question, and Jim’s automatically on guard “But sure, I’ll bite. It’s currently June, 2011.”

Jim’s first reaction is to laugh, because really, the idea that he’s somehow been sent 250 years into the past is ridiculous. Sure, the idea of wormholes and alternate universes stopped being something that the Federation could afford to dismiss after some of the alternate dimensions Jim and his crew have been sent to, but for God’s sake there is no way in hell that the Doctor sent him back in time simply by waving a screwdriver at his head. Hell, maybe this is all part of the same stupid dream he’s been having, stress bought on by too many missions gone to hell and too little sleep. But he can freak out later, because right now he needs to get himself under control before Rory gives in and knocks him out with the breadboard he’s eyeing.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, wow, 2011. I was not expecting you to say that,” Jim says, shaking his head slightly in bemusement.

“What were you expecting me to say?” Rory asks, warily, like he isn’t sure he wants the answer.

“It really doesn’t matter right now. Look, about the Doctor; what exactly do you know about him?” Jim asks seriously, eyes intent on Rory’s face, which is why he catches sight of the brief look of worry.

“The Doctor? Well. I mean, he’s _the Doctor_ , you know? Mysterious, snarky, no sense of personal space. I don’t know as much about his past as my wife Amy does, but I know it’s not a happy one. I think he’s alone, too. Or at least he doesn’t have any family or friends. Well, except maybe River, but I wouldn’t exactly call her a friend,” Rory says thoughtfully. There’s something like awe intermixed with grief and anger in his tone, as if he isn’t quite sure whether he wants to hug the Doctor or punch him.

“Right. So he’s got a dark past and he’s mysterious,” Jim says in a sceptical voice, and Rory shakes his head slightly in frustration.

“I know he sounds like the protagonist of a bad sci-fi novel, but he’s more than that. He’s dangerous and unpredictable and sometimes when he gets involved there are casualties.” Rory’s mouth twists slightly, and Jim knows immediately that Rory’s been one of those casualties. “But he always makes things better, puts things to right, and that’s all that matters.”

“Okay. But did the Doctor say what time he’d be back? Because I really need to get back to my ship.”

“No, just that it would definitely be this evening. Of course, the Doctor doesn’t have the best history of time keeping…” Rory says, before he seems to catch up with the end of Jim’s sentence, latching onto the subject change like a lifeline. “Wait, a _ship_? Like on the ocean?”

“Fantastic. I’ve been kidnapped by a strange man who can’t keep track of time,” Jim mutters, fighting the urge to rub his hands across his eyes. He snorts slightly at Rory’s question, but prepares to lie through his teeth. He is not about to break the Prime Directive, no matter what else happens.

“Yeah, a sea ship. I’m a captain with the Navy. We’re supposed to be heading out tomorrow after shore leave, and I really have to get back so I can do some final checks before we head out..”

It’s not, strictly speaking, lying, he justifies to himself. It’s simply…bending the truth. Although, if his suspicions about the Doctor and his technology are true, he’s not going to be able to hide who he is or where he’s from for long.

“The Navy, huh? My granddad was in the Army, you know. Served in World War Two, even won a few medals for bravery,” Rory says distantly, and it’s with an effort that Jim pulls himself back to the conversation at hand.

He has a feeling it’s going to be a long afternoon.

~ ~ ~

And it is. It’s not that Rory isn’t pleasant—he’s intelligent and funny and clearly thrives on trying to care for people, something that makes a hell of a lot more sense once Jim learns he’s a nurse. But he’s also distracted and worried, and something about the way he acts and looks reminds Jim of the way his mom’s face crumples when she thinks about his dad; sadness and worry and anger all mashed together in an unrecognisable paste. Eventually Jim mutters something about getting some air, and tries not to notice the look of naked relief that passes over Rory’s face as Jim heads into the back garden.

Rory advises Jim to help himself to whatever he wants, before disappearing into a study, explaining he’s working on getting his Masters and he’s still trying to get the final draft of his thesis edited. The words remind him of Bones, and he wonders with a pang whether this is still or dream, and if so whether Bones is trying to wake him up, becoming more frantic as time goes on and Jim remains unconscious. Or--and this is a thought that makes his stomach roll with worry--if this is all somehow real and he’s been pulled from a spaceship and sent all the way back in time to a sleepy little English village.

A pang of homesickness hits him suddenly even though it’s only been a day, and Jim resolutely heads to the door and out into the still warm evening. The sky is a never-ending kaleidoscope of colors as the sun sets, the sunset painting the fields of wild flowers red and orange. There’s a road at the end of the garden, cut off by a hedge and a red gate, and Jim feels oddly peaceful as he takes in the sound of cicadas and the smell of honeysuckle. He sits down on the grass under a large willow tree and closes his eyes as he begins to consider everything that he’s learned in the last few hours or so.

First of all, his dreams are apparently very real, and the man that he knows as the Doctor has the ability to pull him across space and time. Secondly, the Doctor is apparently someone worth being cautious around, and Jim makes a mental note to be on his guard. He needs a plan, something that will allow him to control the situation as best he can without getting injured or kidnapped again, because seriously, he is getting absolutely sick of people kidnapping him. But ultimately he needs to talk to the Doctor before anything else, and the waiting game is just about killing him. Jim’s never been particularly good at sitting still, something that used to drive Gary and Bones mad when he’d fidget and shuffle during long lectures. It’s something he’s tempered over the years and, in a wonderful twist of irony, he actually likes sitting around with nothing to do now that he’s a Starfleet Captain and busier than God.

But right now he’s out of his depth and he can feel tension setting in like an ache. It’s as he’s considering whether a good run would help him brainstorm that he hears the noise, an odd whooshing sound intermixed with a thumping noise as if something wooden is being beaten against something metallic. He spins around, hands clenching into a standard defensive position when the thin outline of a large object appears in front of his eyes. Jim’s seen a lot of weird shit over the course of his time as a Starfleet Captain, but this has to one of the oddest. The sound increases and something that looks vaguely like a transporter beam, but slower, as if the technology hasn’t quite managed to move as fast, begins to form. The shape begins to solidify, until Jim sees a large blue booth with the words “Police Box” painted on the side. The doors swing open after a few seconds, and Jim desperately wishes he had his phaser until the Doctor bounds out, still dressed in that ridiculous suit and bowtie.

“Jim,” he says, breaking out into a large smile as if they’re two friends who’ve passed each other on the street. “You’re up and about. That’s wonderful, absolutely peachy. I assume you’ve met Rory? He’s a sweetheart, isn’t he? Bit slow sometimes, and I’m still not entirely sure he’s recovered fully from his time inside the vortex but, well, that would be hard on anyone, wouldn’t it?”

“Doctor,” a woman’s voice says from behind him, sounding tired, and laced with that same thread of grief that Jim had noticed in Rory’s voice. “You’re rambling again.”

The Doctor steps to the side to reveal the pretty redhead that Jim had seen earlier standing next to Rory in the photo in the hallway. She smiles wanly at Jim, pushing the door of the odd telephone booth closed behind her.

“You’ll have to mind the Doctor. He forgets that not everyone thinks a million miles an hour or that we all immediately understand what he’s trying to say,” she says in a light, lilting accent that reminds Jim distantly of Scotty, giving him a nod before heading towards the house. The Doctor watches her go, eyes unreadable, before he forces a smile onto his face.

“I don’t forget, thank you very much. I just happen to live in the hope that one day I’ll meet someone with the same IQ as myself. And I think my search might finally be over!” the Doctor calls after her, spinning back round to face Jim and beaming brightly. “Captain Kirk, let me just say what an honour it is to meet you. Your reputation far proceeds you. I particularly like the work you’ve done to try and bridge the gap between the Federation and the Romulans. Ten out of ten for that, without a doubt.”

“Wait, you know who I am?” Jim demands incredulously, head spinning with all the new information.

“Of course I do! Everyone who’s ever read the Greatest Federation Heroes of the 23rd century, Second Edition, knows who you are! Although it wasn’t until Jack Harkness recommended you that I considered that maybe the books about you were more than just hot air.”

Jim’s still reeling as he takes in the fact that people are going to write books about him (and seriously, what the hell could they have to say about him that could fill an entire _book_?!) before he realises he recognises the last name.

“You know Jack?” he demands feeling slightly hysterical. Because Jesus, the crazy American attached to Pike now that he was Earth bound could have told him that he was passing his name onto some crazy person willing to bend the laws of physics and time just to get Jim to his century.

“Yes, or rather I will _know_ Jack. Or perhaps I’ve met him already… Sorry, it’s this time stuff. All time-wimey and lackadaisy. Which I suppose leads us on to why you’re here, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Jim says immediately, trying not to think too much about the Doctor’s ramblings about time.

“Good good. But first of all, it’s time for a nice cup of tea.”

Jim opens his mouth to demand answers now, because goddamnit this is starting to get ridiculous, but the Doctor’s already bounding into the house. Jim feels his shoulders slump slightly in frustration, before he rolls his eyes. He’s acting like the Doctor’s the leader in this dance, as if he’s allowed to string Jim along with promises of information before running off. He’s Captain James T. Kirk, and he’s not about to let this evening end until he’s got all the answers.

With a fresh rush of determination, he follows the Doctor back into the kitchen, where Rory is pouring tea into delicate china cups and Amy is slumped in her chair, wanly watching the Doctor tell Rory a story, his hands flapping excitedly.

“Jim,” she says when he enters the kitchen, and gestures towards a chair. “Please sit down, and don’t mind the Doctor. He will eventually get to the point and tell you why you’re here.”

“Well, perhaps you can start by telling me _what_ you are, then,” Jim says, sitting down in the chair and accepting his tea from Rory with a murmured thank you.

“Ah, yes, I was wondering when you were going to get to that particular question,” the Doctor says, voice oddly pensive. He smiles slightly, but there’s something bittersweet and sad about it. The Doctor pauses slightly before he sits up straight and begins to talk, his voice taking on a scholarly tone. “I was born on a planet called Gallifrey, located in the constellation of Kasterborous some 250 million light years away from earth.

“I belong to a race known as the Time Lords. I won’t bore you with the details of who and what we were, but suffice to say that we went to war with another race that was equal to us in every way from power to deviousness. We eventually destroyed one another after countless casualties on both sides, until there was nobody left. As such, I am the last of the Time Lords.”

The Doctor pauses slightly at his last comment, something ancient and painful filling his expression, as if he can’t quite stop himself from still grieving for everything that he’s lost. Jim doesn’t move, not even to nod in understanding because yes, he understands what it’s like to lose everything and everyone, to carry on because not to do so is to give up and he’d be damned before he’d do that.

“So I decided to travel. Stole a TARDIS,” (“his spaceship,” Amy hisses at Jim’s raised eyebrow) “and took to the skies. Met these two a few years back now, and well, things have gotten a bit…hairy recently.”

Rory snorts at that, mouth twisted into a parody of a smile. “Hairy, right. So that’s what we’re calling it,” he says bitterly, and Amy reaches out slightly to touch his hand, a gesture clearly meant to soothe.

“Right, well perhaps I should move onto why you’re here, then?” the Doctor says, looking vaguely discomforted as he watches Amy and Rory. At Jim’s nod, he settles back into his chair and sighs. “I suppose where I should start is with you. See, I pulled you to this time and this place for a number of reasons. Yes, Jack recommended you, but it’s more than that. I’ve followed your career rather closely ever since that whole Nero fiasco, and I have to say, the way you performed was terribly exciting. Reminds me a bit of myself back when I was younger, actually...”

“Okay,” Jim cuts in when the Doctor pauses, “I understand your whole following my career bit, but what I want to know is who the hell Nero is.” He’s feeling a headache pound at his temples. He flinches back when the Doctor suddenly rocks forward, a crazy gleam entering his eyes that reminds Jim of Scotty when he’s coming up with yet another insane way to bend the laws of physics.

“Oh dear. I see it’s already spread to your time. Darn, I was hoping to have avoided this,” the Doctor mutters to himself. “I suppose if I were to ask you about your father too, you’d be able to tell me about the last time you saw him, yes?”

“Yes,” Jim says slowly, something hovering at his conscious that feels wrong, a brief flicker of a childhood with only his mom and Sam, a hole where his father would be, but it disappears before Jim can fully examine it, images and memories of his father filling his mind instead. “I saw him just before Starfleet called me back for a mission brief. It was his fiftieth birthday, and we spent it in Iowa with Sam, Aureleen and the kids.”

“I see,” the Doctor says, voice oddly thoughtful. There’s something oddly like pity in his eyes as he looks at Jim before he stands suddenly and paces over to the window. “Your father is fifty, which means we’ve lost nearly 25 years. Damn, damn, damn. I fear we’ve got even less time than I thought.”

“Doctor, please,” Amy says, cutting through the Doctor’s monologue. “You’ve obviously got Jim here for a reason, and while I have my suspicions, I think it’s only fair for you to tell him what your plan is.”

“Yes, of course,” the Doctor says, spinning back around and settling back in the chair at the table. “Jim, I am sorry to drag you into this, please do believe me. I wish things hadn’t got this far. But nearly three weeks ago, there was a battle on an asteroid called Demon’s Run. We were able to neutralise the threat, but I made a silly, stupid mistake and failed to see the entire picture. And because of that, Rory and Amy’s daughter, Melody, was taken by somebody called Madame Kovarian, someone who holds a particularly nasty grudge against me.”

“ _Kidnapped_?” Jim asks, and suddenly understands Rory and Amy’s worry and exhaustion. He turns to them and feels sympathy well up at the naked fear that fills Amy’s eyes and makes Rory’s face even more haggard. “I’m so sorry. Have you contacted the police, or I don’t know, whatever task force you’ve got on hand, Doctor?”

“Ha. The human police are about as helpful as a fly in honey,” the Doctor says, snorting slightly. “In terms of a task force, I’ve tapped into my resources and we’ve triangulated her position roughly to Houston, Texas, still in 2011 so no unnecessary time travel. Unfortunately the security where Melody is being held is a tad difficult to crack, although we are working on that. Now, you’re probably wondering why on earth you should help us, what with me all but kidnapping you, right? But what we need is not only someone with a military background, but someone who takes the odds and makes them work in his favour no matter the outcome. And I have a feeling that that somebody is you.”

“Wait a second,” Jim says, his head reeling. “Look, not that I don’t appreciate your belief that I can somehow get Melody back, but I’m going to need a more concrete answer as why the hell you chose me out of a million other military officers. It can’t just be because you read about me in some musty history book, or because Jack told you I’d be good for it. There has to be something more to it than that.”

“You’re right. Your background was a small part of it, but the primary reason as to why you were chosen is based on what I am about to show you,” the Doctor says, voice and expression serious. He gets back up and walks around to where Jim is sat, dragging over the extra chair that was sat against the wall until he’s next to Jim.

“I believe the Vulcans have something similar to what I am about to do, although it differs from a Mindmeld in that you won’t be able to feel what I am feeling. But before we begin, you will need to give me your permission.”

Jim feels about as comfortable with a complete stranger reading his mind as he did the first time he met Spock Prime, but nonetheless forces his trepidation down and nods. He holds himself very still and watches the Doctor warily as he slowly reaches out with one hand and places it gently on Jim’s shoulder. Jim opens his mouth to ask what the hell the Doctor thinks he’s doing when - -

_He’s watching as the Enterprise buckles around him, cracks shattering its hull and breaking glass as Sulu pulls him towards the transporter bay, voice hoarse with fear and grief. Sulu’s trying not to look at what’s left of Spock and Chekov but Jim’s fighting and shouting, because he’s not going to leave Bones, not now, not ever, and he’s not dead, he’s not not not not--_

_And then he’s watching Earth burn below the shuttle Sulu’s commandeered, the Klingon and Romulun Birds-of-Prey destroying his home, and he’s wondering if his mom and Sam and Aurelan and Joanna and Eleanor ever even had a chance--_

_They’re running out of power, and Jim knows it won’t be long until the life supports stop working. He knows numbly that Uhura died this morning, that Chapel won’t be able to manage the wounded and the dying on her own for much longer, and he knows he should be fighting this, that he needs to be the Captain, but how the hell is he supposed to carry on when Bones is dead and--_

Jim is pulling back from the Doctor, nausea making his stomach roll and his head pound. He’s distantly aware of Amy shouting, but then there’s cool hands on his forehead and he’s being led back to his chair.

Rory hands him a glass of tap water and rubs absently at Jim’s shoulders until he stops shaking.

“What the fuck was that?” he rasps, staring furiously at where the Doctor is standing, face somber.

“It’s what will happen if you don’t stop Madame Kovarian from moulding Melody into the perfect weapon, one that will lead an army against me and destroy every future in every world in every dimension. I showed you the future as it is now: one where peace is not brokered with the Klingons, one where they grow tired of the Federation’s control and strike a treaty with Romulus that will allow them both to conquer and destroy Earth and every other Federation class planet.

“But, Jim, you have an opportunity to stop this,” the Doctor says, surging forward slightly but still not yet touching Jim, as if he knows that Jim will lash out if the Doctor got in his space again “I know I’m asking for a lot, and you’d have every right to tell me to take a hike. But if you don’t help because _I_ ask you to, at least consider it for Amy and Rory’s sake.”

“Doctor,” Amy hisses, throwing him a sharp look, “you are not about to guilt trip Jim into helping us. If he doesn’t want to, we aren’t going to force him. Especially not after that little demonstration.” She turns to Jim and smiles. “Come on Jim; I’ll show you back to your room. You can take a shower, try to relax a little bit before dinner. Rory’s making cottage pie, something nice and filling to warm you up.”

Jim gets up and forces his hands to stop shaking as he follows Amy out of the kitchen. At the door, he pauses slightly and sighs. “Look, I’ll give it some thought, okay? I’m not about to leap headfirst into helping you out because you asked me to. I need to consider some things. But if I do decide help, it will be because I want to help Amy and Rory, and not because you asked me to.”

He doesn’t look to gauge the Doctor’s expression, but before he leaves he hears him say, “There are spare clothes in the wardrobe. I’ll see you in the morning.”

~ ~ ~

An hour and a shower later (and God, real hot water on tap? Is the best thing ever), Jim wanders back downstairs to where Amy is staring blankly down at a pot of unpeeled potatoes. She stirs when Jim enters the room, and graces him with a tired smile.

“Enjoy your shower?”

“Yeah. It was just what I needed, actually,” Jim says, smiling and leaning against the kitchen table. “Rory out?”

“Mm, he popped in to see his aunt. I’ve no idea where the Doctor is, although I don’t suppose you’ll want to see him any time soon anyway.”

Jim snorts at that. “He’s a bit of a douche, huh.”

[1] “He’s...complex,” Amy says, voice pensive. “It’s easy to pretend he’s human when we’re running around having adventures and the world isn’t ending. But then he’ll say or do something--like earlier--without any understanding of how it could affect the little people and I realise that he still doesn’t understand human beings, even after all of this time.” Amy sighs and leans against the kitchen counter. I know he blames himself for Melody’s kidnap, for leading us into the whole stupid mess. And Lord knows, it would be so easy to lay the blame at his feet. But the reality is that I’m just as much to blame just by inviting him into my life. I wanted fun and excitement; Christ, I prayed for someone like the Doctor to come into my life and take me on adventures, make my life something more than just the usual grind. And I got what I wanted. I just didn’t expect there to be consequences.”

“Most people don’t,” Jim says softly. Her story is familiar, one he’s heard on multiple occasions over the years from crew members who join Starfleet for the prestige and the honor or because their fathers and grandfathers served with honor. They’re the ones who quickly learn it’s more than space exploration and new worlds: that sometimes it’s fear and blood and watching your crew mates die because you tried to make contact with the wrong species.

“I suppose hindsight really is a double edged sword,” Amy says. “But I just wanted you to know that the Doctor doesn’t do these things because he’s trying to hurt you.” She turns from the potatoes and meets Jim’s eyes unflinchingly. “Yes, he’s manipulative, and he’ll find your weaknesses and exploit them to get you where he wants you. But I’ve learned that nine times out of ten the Doctor has Earth’s best interests at heart, even if it doesn’t always feel like it.”

“You don’t need to defend him, Amy,” Jim says, sighing slightly and taking up the discarded vegetable peeler on the counter so he can begin peeling the potatoes. “It’s why I came downstairs, actually; I wanted to tell you and Rory that I’ll help you get back Melody. It’s not because I owe the Doctor anything, or even because I want to prove a point. It’s because you and Rory have helped me out without asking for anything in return. And if I were to walk away, I’m not sure I’d be able to forgive myself.”

“Thank you,” Amy says, practically sagging in relief, and for the first time not trying to hide her fear and her worry from Jim. He returns her smile and turns with her when the kitchen door swings open and the Doctor and Rory come in. Jim rolls his eyes slightly when he realizes they’ve been listening at the door. The Doctor is beaming that mad half smile of his and Rory is giving Jim a look of gratitude as he slips an arm around Amy’s waist.

“I’m seconding Amy’s thank you. Seriously, we owe you,” Rory says somberly, and Jim flushes slightly at the grateful look on their faces.

“You can thank me once we get Melody back. But first I guess we better start planning,” Jim says, slipping easily back into his captain persona. “You said you knew where Melody was being held?”

“Ah, yes,” the Doctor says. “She’s at military base. Gaining access may be a teeny tiny bit difficult.”

“Please tell me we don’t have to break into Buckingham Palace again,” Amy groans, scrubbing a hand across her eyes. “I’m not entirely sure her majesty would be as forgiving as she was last time.”

“No, no, no, of course not. Dear sweet Elizabeth understands that I only ever break in when there’s grave danger. No. We are going to be infiltrating somewhere a wee bit more complex.”

~ ~ ~

“This plan is an absolute disaster,” Rory mutters the next day as they stand at the security check point to enter the Houston Space Station base. The fact that they’d managed to get all the way to America in less than a day using the Doctor’s odd flying machine is pretty impressive, and Jim makes a mental note to get the schematics from the Doctor after they’ve completed the mission.

Jim is reluctantly impressed with the Houston Space Station’s security, as they’ve already been searched twice, had their eyes scanned, and had to fill in a million and one release forms. Jim is used to Starfleet, who make NASA look like the security at a mall, so he’d barely batted an eyelid, but Rory has been growing steadily more annoyed. Despite it being only eight am, the sun is already beating down, forcing the temperature into the high nineties, and Jim can feel sweat pooling at the base of his spine. He looks over to where the Doctor is talking to the soldiers on guard as Amy shifts next to him, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose.

“Shut up and stop complaining,” she hisses at Rory out of the corner of her mouth. “It’s the only plan we’ve got, and it has a higher chance of succeeding if you stopped looking so miserable.”

Rory’s retort is lost in the sudden roar of a black Jeep swinging into the parking lot with all the grace of a boar in a china shop, parking in an empty space. The doors swing open and a pretty black woman exits, followed by a man dressed in what Jim recognises as early twentieth century RAF gear, complete with a long ankle length duster, and Jim’s eyebrows raise as he recognises the man as Jack. The woman is smiling at something Jack said and she’s shaking her head slightly in amusement as they head across the parking lot, her heels clicking smartly.

“Martha!” Jim hears from behind him, and turns with surprise when the Doctor pulls away from his conversation to lope across the lot. His face lights up into a bright smile as he greets the woman with a hug.

“It’s so good to see you, Doctor,” Martha says, accepting his hug with an equally warm smile.

“Mm, loving the new look,” Jack drawls, teeth flashing into a grin, and Jim rolls his eyes at the appreciative look he’s sending the Doctor.

“Oi, none of that from you. I expect you to be on your best behaviour on this mission. None of that hanky panky malarky you got up to the last time we worked together.”

“Come now, Doctor, I’m perfectly capable of behaving myself when necessary.”

“Necessary being the key word here,” the Doctor snorts. “Jack, Martha, I’d like you to meet Amelia Pond and Rory Williams. The blond man I believe you already know, Jack, but Martha, allow me to also introduce Captain Jim Kirk.”

“It’s so good to meet you,” Martha says warmly, shaking hands with Amy and Rory before offering Jim a smile and a sharp salute. She turns back to Amy, dark eyes lit up with excitement. “Are you enjoying your travels with the Doctor? I know that when I was accompanying him, things were never dull!”

“Oh! You’re _that_ Martha!” Amy exclaims, face brightening into the first true smile Jim has seen all day. “The Doctor’s mentioned you before.”

“All good things of course, thank you very much,” the Doctor says hurriedly before Martha’s finished sending him an arch look.

Jim fights back a smile, and is relieved to see Rory and Amy are grinning too.

“Hello there, Captain Kirk,” Jack drawls, stepping around Martha to pin Jim with a slow smile and an unsubtle once over. “And can I say what an absolute pleasure it is to make your acquaintance? The Doctor tells me we’ve already met, but time’s a little flexible sometimes, so this is actually my first time meeting you.”

“Mm, we have indeed met, although I’m smart enough to know not to reveal to you when and where we’ll meet again.”

“Now that’s just unfair,” Jack protests, pouting, and Jim finds himself outright grinning, despite the eye roll from the Doctor, and tries not to break into laughter at the flirtatious look Jack’s sending him. Not that Jack isn’t attractive, but, well, Jim’s heart beats for Bones, and no matter what happens, he’s not about to fuck that up.

“Oi, what did I tell you about behaving?” the Doctor demands, glaring at Jack, who merely lifts his eyebrows, blue eyes glinting innocently. “You can do the flirting bit later. Right now we need to get this show on the road. Jim, Martha and Jack, we’ll be in contact with you all via telephone, but neither myself or Mr and Mrs Williams have access to the actual base itself. So, we’ll do the touristy bit, maybe buy one of those Apollo 13 keychains, and be in contact in a few hours once you’ve all settled down.

“Now, off you go, and try not to get arrested!” the Doctor continues, beaming as he slings an arm each over the shoulders of Amy and Rory and drags them to the section open to the public, completely ignoring their muffled protests. Amy turns and mouths “thank you” over her shoulder before they turn a corner and disappear from sight.

Jim adjusts the tie he’s wearing and ensures his ID badge is on show before smiling up at Martha and Jack. They return his smile, and as one they turn to head into the block of grey buildings off to the right.

The plan, as it is, is pretty simple: they’ll infiltrate the Houston Space Station as members of the European Space Agency under the UNIT branch to aid with the US and UK’s big build-a-missile-on-the-moon project, converting the moon into the first defense against any alien invasions (something which Jim finds hugely amusing). The reality is that Jack Harkness has connections in every area of the US government, several of whom have been around when things have gotten a little...odd and aren’t about to question him when he raises concerns about potential hostile invasions. And they sure as hell aren’t going to question why he’s bringing a hitherto unknown American astrophysicist to the base, after the Doctor’s managed to scrounge up some pretty convincing credentials for him, with letter of recommendation from both Rashid A. Sunyaev _and_ Barack Obama.

The most pressing concern Jim has about the plan is how the hell they’re going to find Melody, particularly if they’re using The Silence (and boy did learning about an alien race with the ability to mind-control an entire planet since its beginnings fill Jim with a tired resignation). Because Houston Space Station? Is fucking _huge_.

But after all of the preparations, after the hours spent researching current NASA projects and contacting each and every member of UNIT’s CIA branch so that if their credentials get pulled they’ll check out, actually working within Houston Space Station is pretty routine. Jim’s researched the Gormenghast Project, knows it will play a pivotal role in earth’s space exploration and that it will be one of the first steps towards human beings making first contact with alien species that don’t want to kill or enslave them. More importantly. it will lead the way for humans actively seeking alien life forms out. rather than the other way round.

And Jim is in his element. Sure, the technology is massively outdated by Starfleet’s standards, and Jim has to regularly remind himself that breaking the Prime Detective to hurry the astrophysicists up so that the team of astronauts can actually get up into space is a firm no-no, and that any decisions he makes could have drastic consequences for the future. It doesn’t make it any easier, though, not to flail like an idiot, because he’s living _history_ , and call Jim a geek, or whatever the fashionable term was in the era he’s currently living in, but he’s always been a bit of a history buff, finds the old fashioned rockets utterly fascinating.

Which doesn’t even begin to match how awesome the team working on the project are; Martha is classy and intelligent and a perfect balance to Jack, who bounces around like a plastic ball in a locked room, flirting with everyone from the group of astronauts who come in for their twice-weekly training to the NASA Deputy Administrator, Lori Garver, who takes UNIT’s sudden interest in her project with barely a blink. The fact that she’s well aware of who and what Jack is, and doesn’t kick up a fuss about it, automatically elevates her in Jim’s eyes.

They spend the first two weeks collecting Intel, and Jim uses his warp theory classes to offer advice where necessary and where it won’t change the future too drastically, trains with the astronauts who rag him about being in the military but let him eat with them in the mess hall or talk about the beauties of space (this last one causing Jim to choke on hysterical laughter, because out of everyone at the table he’s the one who truly understands how exquisite space can be).

Eventually, Martha pulls himself and Jack into a meeting, dark eyes glowing as she tells them she thinks they’ve found Madame Kovarian’s hiding spot. And so they begin to really plot.

~ ~ ~

At 1400 hours on a sticky Wednesday afternoon, the fire alarm goes off inside the main compound. The building is evacuated quickly and effectively, the threat of a health and safety demerit enough to ensure that each section chief gets their workers out to the fire meeting point as quickly as possible. In the mess of bodies fleeing and the noise that follows it’s easy enough for a select group of soldiers dressed in standard SAS gear to stroll back in. And if the cameras in the walkway leading up to cargo bay 89 at the back of the compound happen to spark and cease working, well, it’s not as if anyone is going to be looking at the security feeds in the chaos of co-ordinating the roll calls and fire engines.

The bay itself is large, with high windows that let in a weak light that reflects off of the aisles of unused military vehicles, most of which are covered in a thin line of dust and grime. A series of battered writing desks have been pushed into the corner of the room, and a thin railing wraps around a second floor above them. Jim automatically flicks a warning to be on the lookout for snipers with his right hand to the team behind him when he spots that, the three UNIT soldier’s he’s spent the last month training with nodding in understanding when he throws them a sharp look over his shoulder.

“Alpha team, we’re advancing from the west side. Be aware,” Martha murmurs over the headset as Jim leads his men across from the east, all four men in constant motion as they keep as many eyes out for the enemy as possible.

“Night vision goggles on, men,” Jim says softly over the comm, blinking slightly when the world turns a sickly green colour as the night vision kicks in. “Remember, you see anything move, take a moment to ensure it isn’t anyone holding Melody or one of our soldiers before you fire.” The others nod their understanding, and McGregor moves up alongside Jim’s flank whilst Corsky and Demont fan out to either side.

There’s movement out of the corner of Jim’s eye and he spins quickly, M9 swinging up as he spots two of the enemy sneaking along the top floor. Four more men try to sneak up from the right, but before Jim can warn the others, the loud stutter of a gun cracks the silence. Paddy in the beta team to the left goes down and Jim snarls out a curse as he swings into action.

Jim takes out both men on the top floor, rolling forward until he’s flanking Jack and Martha, who are calmly shooting at the two men still standing on the right while Podansky frantically tries to pull his fallen comrade out of the line of fire. Corsky runs forward swinging his rifle up and begins to shoot, offering both of his team much needed cover.

“Keep your eyes open, I’m gonna create a diversion,” Jack hollers over the radio and shoots forwards, rifle in one hand and hand gun in the other, his trench coat flapping dramatically as he lets out a roar. The three enemy soldiers trying to sneak forwards stutter to a stop at Jack’s sudden run and are gunned down like thistles in the wind. Jim’s moving on automatic, but he can’t help but wonder what the hell Madame Kovarian has promised these men to get them to sacrifice their lives. He tries not to look at the six men already dead on the floor around them.

Jim takes Jack’s place next to Martha, whilst McGregor, Corsky and Demont spin so they can take out the enemy soldiers trying to creep up behind them, and all four move together until they’re halfway across the room and all the men surrounding them are dead. Jim curls his lip ever so slightly in disgust: it’s one thing to send other men to fight for you, but it’s something entirely different to send untrained soldiers into battle. Not for the first time Jim vows never to become a self-serving fatcat, too good to go to war with his men.

A flicker of movement up ahead has all five of them tensing, until Jack emerges from the shadows, his arms over his head and his face fixed into a tense look of irritation. Jim wonders at this until he glances at the woman holding a squalling baby walking behind him. She’s mid-forties with greying brown hair and an eyepatch. Her other eye is glittering with fury.

“Well, well, I see the great and noble Doctor’s called in his pet captain,” she sneers, hand not moving from where it’s pressing a steel dagger against the soft blanket surrounding Melody’s throat.

“I’m gonna go out a limb here and assume that that’s Madame Kovarian,” Jim mutters, and he sees Jack nod out of the corner of his eye. He can’t see the Doctor, but he’d promised to be there, and somehow Jim suspects the Doctor isn’t the type of man to break a promise, even if he is a condescending, interfering bastard.

Madame Kovarian doesn’t appear intimidated by the the group of soldiers surrounding her with their weapons trained on her face as she strides forward. Something about the way her eye glitters as her gaze lands on Jim makes him feel uncomfortable, like she knows more about him than she should.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the famous Captain James Kirk, rushing to offer his aid when the Doctor calls,” she says, lips curving into a sneer. “I suppose he told you a sob story about the world ending if you didn’t save darling Melody from evil old me. That I was the big bad enemy, and that I needed to be put down like a dog.”

She waves a hand when Martha goes to speak, face morphing into a look of utter contempt. “Don’t you try and defend him, Martha Jones. You were never more than a convenient fangirl, someone to watch him like he was a god, until he couldn't give you what you wanted and you finally grew a backbone. No. I’ll tell you why I’ve taken the actions I have, and then you can decide whether I’m the enemy or whether it’s your precious Doctor you ought to keep a closer eye on.”

She has one eyebrow raised as she waits for them to respond. Martha looks angry and embarrassed, but Jack looks thoughtful, nodding once when Jim catches his eye. If they’re lucky, Madame Kovarian will be so caught up on telling her tragic tale they’ll be able to take her out before she realises; but more importantly something tells Jim that he wants to hear Madame Kovarian’s story, that maybe there’s more to her than an angry bitter woman seeking vengeance.

“We’re listening. But you make one wrong move with that knife, and I’ll put a bullet in your head,” Jack says, voice hard, the gun he’s got aimed at Madame Kovarian not wavering.

“Aren’t you the brave little soldier,” she sneers, turning to pin Jack with a look of disdain. “I suppose I should begin with the first time I saw the cracks in time and space. Before all this, before I ended up in that Godforsaken asteroid, I was a geneticist in the year 2025. We were working to find a cure for MS, and we’d finally gained government funding when a quake hit. I’d stayed late that night, something I didn’t usually do, but I’d finally made a breakthrough and I wasn’t about to just go home. That’s why I was the only person injured when the building collapsed around me. I didn’t manage to close my eyes in time when the roof shattered, and not even modern medicine can work miracles, sadly.

“We’d all heard the rumours, of course; people disappearing without a word, only to reappear days and sometimes months later without their memories. But the media played it off as drugs and gang violence, and with the economy the way it was and the threat of war in the Middle-East spreading to Africa, it was easier to just brush things under the carpet.” Madame Kovarian pauses slightly, suddenly looking old, and Jim feels his stomach clench. “They told me I was unconscious for a week or so, that the knock I’d taken to the head had caused a concussion and the shards of glass in my eye accounted for the bright lights I’d seen before I’d fallen unconscious. And, well, I’d stopped wearing my wedding ring at the lab because it was impractical, so I can’t fault the staff at the hospital for assuming I was unmarried. It was only once I’d been discharged that I could finally understand why my husband and daughters hadn’t been to visit me; they had no bloody idea who I was.

“It’s hard to explain what it feels like when somebody you love doesn’t even know who you are; to go from being a wife and a mother, from being part of a unit, to an outsider is indescribable,” Madamae Kovarian says, voice soft and eye distant.“In an odd stroke of luck, my purse had made it out of the quake, thank God, and I booked myself into a hotel using a credit card and tried to understand what in God’s name was going on. You probably think I’m a monster for simply giving up, that I should have done everything under the sun to make my family remember me. But after the third time my husband threatened to call the police on me, I simply stopped trying.”

She pauses again, and Jim meets Martha’s gaze, knows her look of sympathy is reflected in his eyes. Madama Kovarian catches the look and her lips twist into something resembling a smile before she turns her eyes back to where Melody is sleeping quietly in her arms.

“How did you learn about the Doctor?” Martha asks softly, gun still clutched tight in her hand, but lowered now.

“In this day and age, how else do you think, my dear? I used the internet,” Madame Kovarian says, voice acidic. “It was easy enough, really, to find his presence throughout history once you knew what to look for, and plenty of people were making posts about the white light on blogs and conspiracy websites. All I needed to do was find the connection between what had happened to me and the Doctor. It wasn’t long before I started to find the same theory repeated over and over again: cracks in time and space, ones so big that they could wipe out an entire chunk of history in one setting, much like they’d wiped my own history.

“And then I started to wonder: who was this strange Doctor, and why was it that each and every time he’d popped up, somebody had died or become gravely injured? Plenty of novelists have written about time travel and the risks it poses. If this Doctor really was jumping through time, what’s to say that he wasn’t the one causing these cracks? And what right did he have to change history without any say-so? To storm in with his righteous anger and moral code? Why should he be allowed to simply get away with taking everything I’d ever loved away from me?”

“And so you began to look for him,” Jim says softly, mind flitting through everything he’d been told and coming to the most likely conclusion. “If you could create a data set to track him with, one that could tell you when he was in the same time period as you, maybe you could find him, get him to stop whatever he was doing that was causing the cracks.”

“Yes,” Madame Kovarian says, sounding exhausted. “It was simple enough after I’d found a vortex manipulator, and once I’d discovered the name of his new companion, it was just a case of ensuring that I tracked Amy through her pregnancy and that I was able to swap Melody with a duplicated flesh before the battle at Demon’s Reach. As for the soldiers, it’s very easy to make enemies when you’re immortal..”

“But why use Melody?” Jack asks. “Why not just kill the Doctor yourself?”

“Because it wouldn’t have hurt as much as watching the daughter of somebody he trusted kill him,” Jim says, shaking his head slightly. “Plus that way she could put up her hands and say, ’I didn’t kill him,’ even if she did engineer it.”

“You sound like a man who understands revenge,” Madame Kovarian says, her eye watching him closely.

“I know enough to tell you that it doesn’t ever make things better,” Jim says seriously. “But that doesn’t mean I think you’re wrong to want the Doctor dead.”

“What?!” Martha yelps, expression quickly morphing into anger. Jack’s frowning, but there’s something oddly thoughtful in his eyes, a touch of understanding in the way he watches Madame Kovarian.

“He’s got a point, Martha,” Jack says pensively. “About people wanting the Doctor dead. Sure, the Doctor does a lot of good, and he saves a lot of lives. But he’s also lived a long time, and it’s easy for him to forget about the people he leaves behind, the ones who have to deal with the consequences of his presence.”

“I’m not saying Madame Kovarian is right, either,” Jim says, turning back to pin Madame Kovarian with a hard look. “Using Melody as a weapon was wrong and, frankly, pretty damn stupid. But I can’t say you wanting your life back is a wrong or unfair demand.”

“So what, we’ll just let her go back to her old life without any consequences?” Martha demands, her right arm shifting up slightly so that the aim of her gun moves from Madame Kovarian’s chest to her forehead.

“Oh, please, sweetheart,” Madame Kovarian sneers, knife slipping back so it’s resting near Melody’s chin. “You don’t have the nerve to pull the trigger. You didn’t when you were following the Doctor around like a little lapdog, and you don’t now that you’re out of his shadow.”

“Just try me,” Martha hisses back. “Just because you’re too bloody scared to fight your own battles doesn’t mean I’m not going to protect the Doctor.”

Jack moves to step forwards to intervene, hand out in a pacifying gesture, when there’s a click and a flash of white light. There’s an odd moment where Jim feels like he’s floating, the sounds in the room echoing and the lights flickering on and off.

Several disorientating minutes later, it’s over, and he blinks until his vision has settled. He glances over to where Madame Kovarian is standing, her eyes wide and face ashen. He chances a look over to where Jack is frowning and Martha is rubbing the tears out of her eyes before his gaze returns to Madame Kovarian, who is blinking around the room as if she’s never seen it before.

“Who on earth are you?” is the first thing she demands, blinking down at Melody when the baby begins to whimper in her arms.

“Mrs Kovarian,” a familiar voice says before the others can even begin to formulate an answer to her question, “everything’s fine.” The air to their left shimmers slightly before the Doctor appears, face grim and eyes tired. “You’ve had a bit of an accident, but you’re going to be alright. Now, why don’t you pass that lovely little baby over to Jim and I’ll take a look at you. I am a Doctor, you know.”

Jim steps forwards and takes Melody, who opens brown eyes and blinks softly at him. He smiles and gently bounces her on his chest until her eyes slide shut again. The Doctor slips an arm around Madame Kovarian’s shoulders and leads her over to where the TARDIS is waiting, no longer invisible. He shakes his head once at Martha when she goes to protest, then clicks his fingers, smiling when Madame Kovarian makes a noise of surprise as the doors to the TARDIS swing open.

“This here is my TARDIS. It’s much bigger on the inside than on the outside, though, which I suppose makes it a bit of a magic box. And I’m a bit like its captain, although it doesn’t always do as its told...”

“Wait, I don’t understand. _Who_ are you, exactly?”

“Me? I’m the Doctor, of course. Now, why don’t you come with me and I’ll make you a nice cup of tea, so you can tell me all about yourself. And then once you’ve finished your tea we’ll see what we can do about taking you home.”

The Doctor’s voice drifts off as the doors to the TARDIS swing shut again, before a soft whooshing sound starts up and it all disappears in a shimmer of blue and white.

“And this, my friends, is where the shit hits the fan,” Jack says eventually into the ensuing silence, just before the doors burst open and they’re surrounded by military personnel.

~ ~ ~

Paddy makes it out alive, which Jim is counting as a win. There are five fatalities in total, all of them the enemy, but that’s still enough to make the victory feel hollow. They’re debriefed by Lori whilst someone from the FBI hovers over her shoulder ominously, face drawn down into a scowl of irritation, but their credentials check out and they’re finally allowed to leave the compound. Before they’re transported off of the grounds, Lori thanks them with a genuine smile, and she offers them a smart salute just before their car departs.

“You know, I’m actually gonna miss her,” Jack says thoughtfully, shrugging into his long trench coat with a sigh of relief.

“She was certainly one of the less rigid scientists at NASA,” Jim says, wincing as he jars his shoulder settling back against the car seat. God, does he miss dermal regenerators, especially because he knows as soon as Bones gets a look at his bruises, he’s going to get the reaming of a lifetime.

“I assume you’re both going back to London?” Martha asks, pulling her hair up into a pony tail as they ease onto the highway towards the airport.

“Yes,” Jack says, watching Martha with a hint of a smile. “I’m thinking about spending a few days in London before I take a connecting flight back to Cardiff. What about you Jim? Any plans before the Doctor sends you back to the future?”

“First, I need to give this little lady back to Amy and Rory,” Jim says, smiling down at where Melody is asleep in her car seat, one hand wrapped tightly in her baby blanket. “And then I guess it will be time for me to go home and face the music. Starfleet tends to take the disappearances of their commanding officers pretty seriously,”

“Oh, man, that sounds familiar,” Jack laughs, shaking his head in amusement. “Did I ever tell you about the first time I met the Doctor? I was a Captain serving with the Fourth Platoon based out in England during World War One, and it was my first real mission, so I’m nervous as all hell trying to make sure I do things right. So I’m walking home after a heavy night of drinking with the Brits, when this crazy skinny guy in a tweed jacket and tie bursts out of an alley way and tells me I need to go with him right now, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the TARDIS before I could even react!

“An hour later, and I’m finally dropped off back where the Doctor picked me up after helping him save the universe, to learn that half my platoon have been out looking for me and my Sergeant Major is about five seconds away from court marshaling me!”

Jim laughs with Martha at Jack’s look of outrage and listens thoughtfully as Martha starts to talk about the fights she’d had with her family when she used to disappear for days and sometimes weeks on end with the Doctor, and wonders what the hell will happen once he does get home. It’s easy for him to joke about it now, but the reality is that this could destroy his career, even with Pike’s support.

He’s shaken out of his increasingly depressing thoughts by the car slowing to a stop and the door swinging open. The Doctor smiles brightly at them, hair standing up in cowlick as he eagerly helps Martha climb out.

“Ah, you’re all here. Wonderful, wonderful. Now, I’d love to stay and talk, but we’ve got rather a lot to do, and not a lot of time to do it,” the Doctor says as he ushers them across the tarmac of the airport where the private jet Lori had procured for them is waiting. Jim finds himself watching the old fashioned transport carrier with fascination, comparing its similarities and differences to the shuttles of his time. He smiles as he pictures Bones ranting about how unsafe the flimsy material of the airplane looks, complete with a record of every air disaster in history, and feels his heart clench in the now-familiar feelings of homesickness.

Melody’s slight whimper brings him back to the present, and he smiles down at where she’s blinking sleepy brown eyes up at him, her face scrunched up into a frown of displeasure.

“I know you want your mommy and daddy, little lady,” he murmurs, vaguely aware that Martha is hugging the Doctor goodbye. “And I promise that you’ll be home soon. But first you’ve gotta stick with me for a little bit longer, okay?”

Melody gurgles in response, but her brow smooths out and she turns her head so that she can watch Jim’s face. He smiles as Martha moves to gently hug him goodbye, careful not to crush Melody.

“It’s been an honour, Captain Kirk,” she says, dark eyes glinting with warmth as she smiles up at him. “I hope you get back to your starship safely and maybe one day we can can work together again.”

“Certainly, ma’am. Good luck with your career. I’ll be sure to look you up in the history books once I get back to _Enterprise_ ,” Jim says, saluting Martha firmly. She returns the gesture before walking up the stairs into the jet.

“Captain Kirk, I already know we’ll meet again, and let me just say that I cannot wait! But until then: good luck and take care,” Jack says, saluting Jim once before following Martha up the stairs and onto the jet. Then it’s just the Doctor, Jim and Melody left.

“I suppose that’s that,” the Doctor remarks thoughtfully before turning to pin Jim with a smile. “But first things first, and I believe it’s time for us to return Melody to her parents.”

“That, Doctor,” Jim says honestly as he walks with the Doctor to where the TARDIS is waiting, “sounds like the best idea you’ve had yet.”

~ ~ ~

Jim’s spent long enough on a space ship to understand the mechanics behind warp speed, knows that jumping several hundred light-years away in the future has become the norm. But there’s still something disconcerting about walking out of what is essentially a small wooden police box on the outside into a completely different country.

The sun is just beginning to set, the grass damp with dew when they arrive at Rory and Amy’s house, and Jim has a brief moment of absolute peace as he takes in the way the roses and bluebells in Amy’s small front garden sway in the breeze, and the way the setting sun paints the surrounding trees in reds and oranges, before the front door swings open and Amy stumbles out.

She gasps, one hand coming up to frantically tuck a curl of red hair behind her ear from where the wind has blown it across her face, before she’s running down the garden path to where they’re waiting. Jim’s quiet when he gently passes Melody over to her mother, Amy’s face creasing into something like awe as she reverently wraps her arms around her daughter. Rory runs out of the house several seconds later and comes to an abrupt stop when Amy turns to face him, her mouth trembling.

“She’s back, Rory,” Amy says softly, and Rory hesitates for a scant second before he’s moving to wrap his wife and child up into a desperately soft embrace.

Jim turns away from the scene to give them some privacy, and is caught up suddenly in the blank look on the Doctor’s face as he watches the small family reuniting. Jim wonders how hard it must be for the Doctor to always be alone, to have companions for only a scant few months before they move on with their lives or the Doctor begins to feel like the odd man out. Jim may not have had the best childhood growing up, but his mom had tried her hardest, had been there for all the important events, and hadn’t hesitated to tell Starfleet to take a hike once Jim had returned from the hellhole that was Tarsus so that she could spend the weeks and months building his strength back up again. And then there was Sam, who’d been a substitute parent for Jim for much of the time his mom had spent on her six month deep space missions. And once he’d joined Starfleet he’d had Bones and Gaila and later the bridge crew to have his back and follow him to the ends of the earth.

“I put Madame Kovarian back into her own time,” the Doctor says abruptly, not looking at Jim despite the fact that he must feel him watching him. “I increased the power of the time vortex enough that when I hit her with it that she should never regain her memories of her role in the kidnapping of Melody. I can’t promise anything, but with the vortex closed in her time now, things should start to get back to normal.”

“You mean her family will remember her?”

“Theoretically, yes. But the human mind is a slippery thing and I can’t make any guarantees that things will ever go back to how they used to be. I know you don’t trust me,” the Doctor says, switching topics so quickly that Jim’s left blinking, “and I can’t say that I blame you. Perhaps I have lost my understanding of what it is to be human, and maybe it is time for me to try and settle down somewhere.”

“I don’t think you giving up is the answer,” Jim says slowly, turning to face the Doctor fully. “My personal opinion about you doesn’t matter here, not in the long run and certainly not when I take into consideration the way that you’ve done a lot of good in returning Melody to her parents. Although, for the record, I still think you’re an asshole for using the memory of my dad as a bargaining chip.”

The Doctor winces slightly at that, and a petty part of Jim feels vindicated by this, wants to hurt the Doctor the way he’d been hurt.

“Regardless, I am sorry for pulling you into this,” the Doctor says, pausing slightly as he meets Jim’s eyes, and Jim can see that he’s genuinely contrite. “I need you to know that things should be back to normal in your time. This means that your crew are alive and with no memory of their deaths.”

“And my father?” Jim asks, mouth dry.

“The memories of your father were fake, bought on by the cracks in space and time. He didn’t live to see your first birthday,” the Doctor says softly, and Jim turns away abruptly at the compassion he can see.

“Thank you,” Jim says, distantly, because his time at Starfleet has taught him that regardless of his personal feelings, remaining polite is paramount. “Give me five minutes to say goodbye to Rory and Amy, and I’ll be ready.”

The Doctor nods and Jim makes his way up to where Rory is cooing down at his daughter, Amy watching with a soft expression on her face. She glances up when Jim approaches, and the smile on her face grows as she pulls him into a hug.

“Thank you for bringing her back,” she breathes into his ear, pulling back enough so that she can press a kiss against his cheek. Jim feels himself flush slightly, but returns her smile. Rory looks up from his daughter for a scant second, and offers Jim his hand for a handshake, before lifting Melody slightly so that she can see Jim. Jim strokes one finger along the soft line of Melody’s cheek, and realises with a start that he’s going to miss Amy and Rory more than he even expected to.

“If you ever end up our way again, you let us know. I took the opportunity to write down our telephone numbers and email addresses just in case, and while know you probably won’t get transported back in time again, it’s always good to be prepared right?” Amy says as she escorts him to where the Doctor is leaning against the TARDIS.

Jim takes the piece of paper from her and tucks it into the standard black pants NASA had given him, making a mental note to transfer their information to his personal PADD once he gets home.

“Take care of yourself and that gorgeous little girl. She’s going to break some hearts in a few years.”

Amy laughs at that, a full one that lights up her face into something beautiful and yeah, if she’s anything like her mom, Melody Williams is going to be an absolute knock out once she’s all grown up.

“I think I’ll keep that from Rory for now,” she says leaning up to give him one more hug goodbye. “Take care of yourself, Jim.”

The last thing Jim sees as the doors of the TARDIS close is Amy making her way back to where her husband and child are standing, the last shreds of sunlight glinting off of her hair.

~ ~ ~

_2261, two weeks after Jim’s disappearance ___

To say that the shit hits the fan once Jim returns to the _Enterprise_ is a bit like saying that the last person to make a derogatory comment about Uhura ended up getting yelled at a little. He spends five minutes trying to convince the security team that he’s the real Captain Kirk and not some dangerous pod person pretending to be him before he’s even allowed anywhere near the bridge, and Jim makes a mental note to give his security team a raise.

The situation doesn’t much improve when Lt. Commander Giotto finally comms Spock to tell him that the Captain has returned, and when Spock actually looks worried when he finally lays his eyes on Jim, eyebrows high in displeasure. Jim spends the next three hours being thoroughly checked over by a worryingly quiet Bones, before he’s rushed into a conference with Starfleet, where he spends a good forty-five minutes trying to convince them that at no point did the Doctor threaten him and that starting a war with a man and his time machine is counter-productive to their reputation as a peace keeping armada.

Ultimately, he isn’t alone with Bones again until that evening, and he’s barely through the door of their shared quarters before Bones has him wrapped up in a bone crushing hug, face buried in Jim’s neck. He’s shaking slightly, a faint tremor that breaks Jim’s heart even as Jim feels part of the lingering tension drain out of him slowly as he wraps one arm around Bones’ waist and the other in his hair. They stay like that for a while, simply wrapped up in each other’s breathing, before Bones pulls back slightly so that he can meet Jim’s eyes.

There’s a mixture of wariness and fear in his gaze, as if he expects Jim to slip between his fingers again, and Jim feels his heart ache at the extra grey hairs along Bones’ hairline, and the way his mouth seems even more tense than usual.

“I missed you,” Jim says, voice oddly hushed to meet the atmosphere of the room.

Bones smiles slightly, leaning forwards to brush a kiss along the sharp line of Jim’s jaw, one hand stroking softly across his knuckles. “I missed you, too. What really happened out there, Jim?”

Jim sighs and pulls Bones over to the couch in the corner of the room, maneuvering them together until he’s pressed under Bones’ familiar weight, their hands twisted together. Bones doesn’t push him to answer his question, even though Jim knows he’s unimaginably curious to learn what Jim had left out of his debriefing with the bridge crew. Instead, Bones merely strokes a hand through Jim’s hair and down to the top of his spine over and over.

“It started with the dreams,” Jim says hesitantly. “I knew they were too real, that something wasn’t quite right, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. And yes, I know I should have told you, but come on, Bones, they felt like just dreams, certainly nothing to worry about.”

“Until the last one, you mean?” Bones asks softly, continuing to gently stroke Jim.

“Yeah. And by then, I was already back in 2011 in the middle of the English countryside. But if you really want to know how the Doctor dragged me across space and time, I recommend you talk to the Admiralty, because Christ knows they aren’t telling _me_ anything about who the Time Lords really are,” Jim says, feeling that now-familiar frustration rise up. Spock had hypothesized that the Time Lord’s latent ability to create mental melds with people had allowed the Doctor to pull him back to 2011 without causing him any permanent effect, but damn it, his crew deserve to know what effects, if any, Jim’s time with the Doctor has caused.

“Mm, that much I got from your report. What I really want to know, though, is what the hell that son of a bitch did to you to make you look so haunted.”

“He needed me to help him recover a child, Bones,” Jim says, twisting slightly so that his head is resting against the arm of the sofa, eyes focused on a spot over Bones’ shoulder. “And hell, you know I’ve never been able to say no to rescuing a child. But I dunno. Maybe the Doctor missed that memo, because he showed me what would happen if the cracks across space and time spread into 2261.

“He showed me your death, Bones. Let me see the destruction of everything I love. And then when that didn’t seem enough, he showed me what my life would have been like if my father had lived.”

Jim hears Bones breath catch, and tenses, only relaxing when Bones murmurs endearments under his breath and pulls Jim forwards until he’s pressed against his chest.

“Oh, Jim,” Bones murmurs, brushing a kiss across Jim’s forehead. “I’m so sorry, darlin’.”

“He showed me so many things. The day my dad watched my graduate, the first time he taught me how to ride a bike. How things would have been between me and my mom if Dad had gotten off the _Kelvin_ , what she looks like when she’s really truly smiling instead of pretending for the camera. I mean, fuck Bones. He even showed me the party we threw for my dad’s fortieth birthday.”

“Jesus Christ. What an unbelievable bastard,” Bones swears, and Jim offers a watery smile at the familiar sound of Bones cursing someone out. “I mean—fuck, Jim. I know you said he’s not human, but showing you all that is just inhumane.”

“I dunno, Bones,” Jim says, lifting his hands in a cease fire gesture when Bones scowls down at him. “I’m not gonna forgive him, or say that what he did was right, because it wasn’t. But I don’t regret my role in saving Melody.”

“I know you don’t, darlin,” Bones says softly, leaning back down so that he can kiss Jim softly.

And later, when Bones slides into him, bodies pressed together so tightly that Jim feels like Bones is trying to sink into him completely, as Bones kisses him and tells him how much he loves him, how scared he was when Jim disappeared, Jim lets himself cry for a father he never had.

~ ~ ~

He only sees the Doctor once more, two years down the line during a week of shoreleave on a newly discovered planet called Praha. They’ve spent the first half of their holiday exploring the crowded, lively, cobble-stoned streets, ducking and weaving through traditional stalls and into bright exquisitely decorated cool rooms full of art and music, the juxtaposition dizzying. Their evenings have been spent wrapped up in one another in their hotel room, the sounds from the streets oddly muted through the screens attached to their balcony to keep the giant bugs out, as they’ve slowly tried to adjust to civilian life for this short time before they’re back up in the black again.

Jim is waiting for Bones to finish wrangling down the price on a beautiful hand carved instrument, one that reminds Jim of the flutes on earth, when he catches the sound of a husky laugh across the crowds. He doesn’t know what makes him look up, and later when he tells Bones about it, he still won’t quite have worked out whether it was fate or simply coincidence. But Jim feels his eyes widen when he catches sight of a young man dressed in a corduroy brown coat, bright red bow tie giving him the look of a jester, and leading a pretty women with a riot of dark brown curls flickering around her face in the light evening wind by the hand.

Jim watches them enter a crooked alley way, and just before they disappear completely, the Doctor turns his head slightly and throws Jim a wink over his shoulder.


End file.
